


Survivor's Guilt

by stellarparallax



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Angst, Angst and Feels, Established Relationship, Heavy Angst, Implied Violence, Kissing, M/M, Rebellion, Rebels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 10:48:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16116842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarparallax/pseuds/stellarparallax
Summary: The smell of fresh paint hung heavy in the air as Shiro made his way down the shoddy street. There was a crowd gathered around the foot of a building, gawking at the large, calligraphic “G” that was marked across its entrance. It wasn’t the audacity of the vandalism or the otherwise unpeculiar building that captured their attention, but what the mark represented. It was the calling card of the rebel faction.





	Survivor's Guilt

The smell of fresh paint hung heavy in the air as Shiro made his way down the shoddy street. There was a crowd gathered around the foot of a building, gawking at the large, calligraphic “G” that was marked across its entrance. It wasn’t the audacity of the vandalism or the otherwise unpeculiar building that captured their attention, but what the mark represented. It was the calling card of the rebel faction.

More specifically, it was the mark of Team Voltron. He could tell just by a sweeping glance over the tail that curled into a smaller “V”. It was what set it apart from other teams, all of which had their own signature flairs. The difference was small enough that an outsider would assume that they were the same, but distinct enough to be verifiable by their leader. Shiro, however, would have recognised that signature anywhere. After all, he was the one who created it.

He looked at his watch.

They were getting bolder, picking times where there would be more foot traffic. They knew that there would be a large crowd passing through the area for the summer solstice festival. As the rebel faction’s influence grew, so did the desperation of the government. Shiro wished that he was surprised that they could be so careless with lives just to convince everyone that there was a bigger threat that only the government could protect them from. But with how quickly Team Voltron—the rebel faction’s bomb squad—moved with Shiro’s protege at the helm, the government’s staged attacks would only gain the rebel faction more favour with the people.

He looked at his watch. It was time for him to leave.

He walked down the street till he arrived at a tall, dark building that cast a grim shadow over the rest of the shoddy town. Sketchy as it appeared, it wasn’t enough to turn him away. After all, he was a sketchy person himself. So he entered, taking the elevator to the floor he was supposed to be on. He approached his destination’s door cautiously, then inserted the keycard that he had in his back pocket into the reader.

Beep. Click.

The door cracked open slightly and he entered, taking a quick look through the peephole after locking the door behind him.

At another time, he would have relished the spectacular opulence the room contained; from the beautiful adornments to the immaculacy that he would never achieve in the apartment he shared with his team. It was luxury that he hadn’t grown used to. But he only thought of what the room promised, which he found draped over the bedroom armchair wrapped up in the hotel-provided bathrobe.

“Nice job at Anregen Street.” Shiro paused, savouring the name. “Keith.”

“I learnt from the best.”

Shiro took off his coat, letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor. He hadn’t seen Keith in close to a month and the longing was driving him mad. He could think of nothing but holding him close, to whisper to him words he kept sealed away from everyone else. Alas, they had business to discuss.

Shiro cleared his throat. “The more… the more that I find out… the more that I’m starting to get what you mean when you say that the rebels aren’t too different from the government. They’re two sides of the same coin—”

“—the rebels, who allow freedom but restrict information; and the government who grants information but not freedom,” Keith finished.

“How much longer can we keep living like this?”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Shiro clenched his jaw. “Don’t… don’t do that. Don’t… don’t talk to me like how you talk to everyone else.”

Keith held his arms out and Shiro went to him, burying his face in Keith’s chest. “I trust you, Takashi.”

“Is it enough?”

“It has no bounds.”

Keith’s hand started rubbing soothing circles into Shiro’s back before finding its way into his hair. Shiro looked up at him, point-blank, hesitating only for a second before leaning forward. Pressed against each other, their mouths opened, as if preparing them to drown in each other’s warmth while their hands tugged at each other’s hair for safety. They gasped for air, then came back together, in the timed precision only achieved with practice.  

Then, Keith’s alarm went off.

Shiro hastily buried the scream that exploded deep in his chest. There wasn’t a point in getting angry. The only people who would care to listen to his frustration would be the same people he didn’t want to hear it. Not the rebel leader to whom Shiro needed to prove his loyalty. Not the government whose ear was pressed up against the walls that would never be thick enough. Not the person who he knew had his own anger to contain. 

They got off the bed and walked away from each other, as if they hadn’t just been caught in each other’s loving embrace. Shiro picked his coat off the floor, checking that he had everything he needed. 

“My pill is missing,” he said.

“Take mine, I’d never use it anyway.”

Keith pulled out a pill case from his own coat and handed it to Shiro. 

“Are you sure? They’re responding to our interferences faster each time. You never know.”

“I rather be tortured than take that.”

‘If you insist,” Shiro muttered as he accepted the case.

With his other hand, he pulled Keith towards him, so close that the tips of their noses were touching. Their eyes were closed and their hearts were longing, but that was as far as they could go.

Keith brushed past him, making his way to the door. If Keith left first, it meant that Shiro had to wait at least an hour before he could safely leave. That was an hour of clutching onto the bathrobe that Keith had on, taking in what little of Keith he was allowed to hold onto. The thought alone was enough to drive him mad.

“Wait,” Shiro said right as Keith was about to open the front door. “If it came down to it and… and I was close enough… I’d do it. I’d kill you.”

Keith’s eyes widened for a moment before it softened again. 

“Then my life is in your hands.”

 

* * *

 

Keith made a mental list of everything that Leader Sanda had said in the briefing earlier, repeating it over and over again as he committed it to memory. Sending a team off for a mission the same day they were briefed was unheard of in the rebel faction. But with the military moving faster and faster, it hardly surprised him. Still, he had to hold onto any information he could get. He’d never know if any of it proved to be useful to his bigger mission of escaping with Shiro. 

While doing that, he watched intently as his team talked among themselves. Pidge and Lance’s unfazed selves contrasted against Hunk and Allura, who looked as flustered as they always did. Together, they brought stability to the team, stability to Keith, stability that he once had with Shiro as their leader. Even Allura, the youngest in experience but not in age, had taught him so much.

Should Keith escape with Shiro, he would never see his team ever again. But that wasn’t the worst of it. In the rebel faction, it was a crime not to report other agents if you suspected that they wanted to defect. The thought of them getting dragged into the interrogation room and tortured into admitting guilt was more than he could bear. 

“Is something wrong, Keith?” Allura asked.

“No, not at all.”

‘We know you’re hiding something.” Hunk said. “Keith, you know you can trust us if you’re having any…  _ thoughts _ .”

Keith’s ears pricked up at the emphasis. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Are you?”

Those two words took him back to first time he saw Shiro after being told that he was dead. He had wandered off on his own in the middle of the mission, still getting to grips with the change from follower to leader. He hadn’t told his team where he was going. So when a gun was pointed at his throat, he didn’t for a moment expect any of them to save him. 

Except he wasn’t truly alone. Before he could react, the gunman had been shot in the head. He stumbled forward before falling to his side, leaving Keith stunned as if he’d been shot himself. It wasn’t because death was difficult for Keith to stomach. It was because the only person who would have ever taken that shot to save him was supposed to have been dead. 

_ “Breathe, Keith, you’re alive.” _

_ “Are you?” _

 

* * *

 

Shiro did a double take. It was odd that there were two teams assigned to missions in the same location. It was unprecedented for the government to stage such a complex disruption that warranted the attention of more than one team. Then again, he may not have recognised them if he hadn’t been on their team before, considering that the uniform of the rebel faction was identical to that of the military.

He hung back from his own team, stealing glances at Team Voltron. Perhaps it was nostalgia. Perhaps it was plain curiosity.

As Team Atlas got closer to the room where the hostages were held, his glances got less frequent as he diverted his attention to his own mission. Ryan was in charge of the mission, but Shiro was still the team leader. He couldn’t afford to be distracted.

Ryan turned to him and gave him the signal to stay back. Shiro took a deep breath before nodding. Ryan looked at James and cocked his head in Shiro’s direction. Then, James moved over to stand close to Shiro, both of them awaiting further instruction.

Shiro took a step back, putting distance between James and himself. He turned towards an open window that gave him a birds eye view of the area. He looked around until he found his former team again. They were done defusing the bombs and were in the process of leaving their calling card. It was imperative that they did it. The masses needed to know who was earning their support and the other agents of the rebel faction needed to know they weren’t alone in their efforts to dismantle the government. 

Suddenly, Shiro spotted black figures moving swiftly towards Voltron. His breath hitched. They were completely surrounded.

Shiro saw Lance surveying the outside of the room they were in, probably coming to the same realisation that Shiro did. The team was huddling close to discuss their options, of which Shiro knew for a fact that they didn’t have many. After all, he was the one who trained them.

_ Five. _

Pidge paced around the room before noticing that there was a direction that soldiers weren’t coming from. She pulled out her tools and started to fashion a grappling hook out of them. Shiro nodded in approval.

_ Three. _

Pidge and Lance swung out of the window. Allura located the door of a refuse chute obscured by rotten crates. She pushed them away so that she and Hunk could pass through. 

_ One. _

If Keith had paid attention to Shiro’s training, he would be staying behind. The troops were already aware that there would be rebels in that room. They didn’t know how many there were. If Keith escaped then, the soldiers wouldn’t stop tracking them until they found the rebellion’s headquarters.

That was the true burden of being a team leader. If a mission went south, the leader would be caught and tortured by the military. It was why everyone carried a cyanide pill.

Shiro’s body stiffened as he closed his eyes. He positioned his rifle. Inhale. Exhale. He opened his eyes. He looked through the scope, his index finger trembling against the trigger guard as he aimed for a clean shot. The soldiers were close. He had one chance.

He couldn’t do it. Not when Keith was looking at him. Not when his eyes looked the way they only ever did when he told Shiro that he loved him.

“Shiro? We’re done here.”

Shiro turned to James and lowered his rifle.

_ Zero. _

 

* * *

 

Shiro decided that he would not grieve.

Grieving would bring remembrance, which would bring longing to his aching arms that were holding out for a person long gone. He would grow full of anger, but also empty of hope; the juxtaposition of the two mixing to form a bitter brew that would resent being contained within his tired existence. Because that’s the thing about survivor’s guilt when your relationship with the person you’re mourning remains in the dark—the light never touches you long enough to heal.

But that was not how he wanted to remember Keith. No, Keith—one part hopeless optimism, ninety-nine parts stubborn conviction—deserved to be celebrated. He deserved to have his name received with standing ovations when discussed among scholars of history studying the dark time when the only thing that set apart killer from saviour was the undignified scrawl of a spray can of paint. And, as they shouted the name that Shiro could only whisper, they would remember that Keith was the reason the revolution had turned in their favour; because losing him was what motivated Shiro to do what he never could. But to get there, he’d have to hold it together until his plan was in motion.

So hold it together, he did.

“Another successful mission under your belt, Atlas. You should be proud of yourselves,” said Leader Sanda. “You’re definitely the best team we have.”

“A claim that isn’t verifiable due to the opacity of information flow between teams,” Ina remarked.

“Ina!” James gasped.

“No.” Sanda waved dismissively. “It’s quite alright. But you do understand that we run this organisation this way due to reasons bigger than any one person, don’t you?”

“Of course, Ma’am,” Ina responded.

“Very good. Now, please leave my office.” Her smile hardened into a scowl. “Except for you, Shiro.”

The rest of his team looked at each other. None of them had any idea what was about to be discussed between Sanda and Shiro. And perhaps Shiro was grateful for that impression they gave, even if it proved to be false. But did it really matter if they’d have the  _ right _ answer beaten out of them regardless?

The last to leave was Ryan. He gave Shiro a hard look that, as usual, gave nothing away. 

“You said you’d do whatever it takes to prove your loyalty to me,  _ Takashi _ ,” Sanda said as soon as Ryan closed the door behind him. “I knew that you couldn’t do it.”

“Where is he?” Shiro’s voice cracked.

“Effective today, you are no longer part of this organisation. You don’t get any intel.”

“What…” Shiro considered every word carefully. “What are you going to do to me now?”

“I’m not a cruel person. I think that I’ve already punished you enough,” she said flatly, as if the gravity of her decision was something trivial. “You’ll never find him, you have no allies, and you’re no longer under my protection.”

“You may as well kill me now.”

“True, but the carpets you’re standing on are expensive… and you have exactly thirty minutes before I send a team after you.”

 

* * *

 

Living on the outskirts of the city meant that Shiro wasn’t allowed the privilege of calling any place home. He awoke each morning and gathered the supplies that would get him through the night, and nothing more. He’d grown used to having nothing permanent on his person, apart from Keith’s pill case. 

He lived for so long as a wanderer, that he was desperate for a shelter that was less temporary, even if only for a week. After some consideration, he decided on the building that he often passed by. There was something about it that didn’t sit right with him. It was heavily armoured, but it looked empty. It could have been a former military shelter, abandoned for reasons that he didn’t care to understand. 

Regardless, he had kept his eye on it for a while. If the building was as impenetrable as Shiro thought, then it might be the perfect place for him to settle down. Well, if he could find a way to get rid of the stench that it reeked of. 

He approached the door with light steps; a remnant from his training. He got closer and closer, until finally he was close enough. He knocked on the door, not knowing what to expect.

Oddly enough, the door swung open. The room was dark and it made Shiro nervous. Cautiously, he proceeded, turning on his flashlight to take a look around.

The contents of the room unsettled him more than the unlocked door did, if that was possible. A pair of handcuffs whose connecting chain was broken hung from the wall. The bodies of fallen soldiers littered the floor. Shiro covered his nose, knowing that it wouldn’t help much. 

As he grew accustomed to the smell of rotting corpses, Shiro realised that there was a smell that he hadn’t noticed. It was… paint? 

He turned around, pointing his flashlight at the parts of the room he had yet to explore. Slowly, he took a step forward, then another, determined to find the source of the smell. 

Then, he found it. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he stumbled backwards.

He took a moment to regain his composure and examined the mark again. He needed to be absolutely sure. Needed to know that there was still hope, that peace was imminent.

That the “G” with its tail curled into a “V”, but in reverse, was a sign that he would see Keith again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I'm finally done with this one. It's been about a month of planning, re-planning, writing and re-writing that it still hasn't fully registered that it's over. 
> 
> I have a lot of people to thank for their help and support while I struggled with this, particularly Ally ([Tumblr](https://alcego.tumblr.com/) | [AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alcego/pseuds/alcego)) for being my beta and just being an amazing person in general.
> 
> \--
> 
> Thank you for reading till the end! I would really appreciate it if you left kudos and comments.
> 
> And as usual, you can come scream at me on 


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